Cocksure
by AmenToTheMangaBible11
Summary: "You're wrong about him, you know." She glanced at him, seated in the school office, nursing his bloody knuckles. "He's not a freak. Just... A little different than everyone else. We're all different in our own ways." Sakura smiled gently when he glanced at her through the window. "He's just brave enough to show it."
1. Unfortunate Transfer

**Disclaimer: **...disclaimed! Moving on.

Cocksure: presumptuously or arrogantly confident.

We all know what you perverts thought this was about! :P

Okay, anyone know about the rant I posted in my AN in my story You'll Surrender Eventually? Well, this was the story I'd written that I really liked that a certain website randomly deleted. This time, instead of writing it all at once, I'm going to just make chapters like usual and post them individually. Maybe people can actually read it this time!

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Chapter 1: Unfortunate Transfer

"I'm really sorry, but he is dead."

"Okay."

The officer blanched. "Kid, maybe you didn't hear right. You're father is dead."

"I'm sure."

"He's dead! As in, not living anymore." A few exaggerated hand motions became involved.

One almost nonexistent eyebrow rose in irritation. "I'm not stupid if that's what you think. I'm aware of what dead means."

"Aren't you... Going to cry or something?"

"I choose 'or something.' Step out of the way now. I want to see where he died." The redheaded young man pulled the collar of his leather jacket tighter around him and let out a breath of hot air. It misted in front of him. How he hated the cold, there were too many ways to count.

"I'm not sure I should let you back there young man, it's pretty gruesome for a kid. Heck, I don't even think I'm allowed to."

"I want to investigate."

"I... don't really have clearance to let you back there right now-"

"Now." He shoved his gloved hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Stand aside. Or I'll move you." The police officer stared disbelievingly as he was pushed aside by the_ teenager_, who was now making his way over to the crime scene at a leisurely pace.

"Kids these days, too many video games. Rotting their brains..."

The redhead brushed past the crime investigators that lined the door and stepped inside the small, charred foyer. The burnt wooden floor creaked underneath his brown Vans, ash settling on his toes. Gaara grimaced. Now he'd have to clean them.

"Kid, what are you doing in here? This is a crime scene, no outsiders allowed." A hand settled on his shoulder, the muscle of the man it was attached to attempting to turn him back out of the doorway he'd just stepped through. A crease marred the young man's forehead. That would be a waste of his time, he'd just gotten there after all.

Gaara hated doing things that didn't make sense.

He ducked under the arm of the much bulkier policeman than the first one that had tried to stop him and continued walking through the singed foyer. Now, where had his father been when he'd been murdered? He took a few more steps onto the ruined living room carpet when that same hand stopped him yet again. What was with everyone trying to stop him today?

"I said you can't be here." The grip on his wrist tightened almost threateningly.

Gaara glanced once down at the large hand keeping him from doing what he'd come to do, then back up at the face looming several inches above his own. Was this man trying to intimidate him? He'd done nothing wrong, he hadn't strayed from his goal. "I'm just trying to-"

"I don't care what you're trying to do, you aren't allowed in here. Now leave before I have to take you downtown." Two pierced blonde eyebrows drew together in an irritated crease.

"You interrupted me?" It was almost a question. The officer blinked, his head cocked to the side in a blatant- to Gaara at least- sign of confusion. "Now my train of thought is disrupted. I don't particularly appreciate that. As payment for your wrongdoings, release me and you shall be forgiven." His accent was clipped, and unmistakably foreign.

"Wai-What? What are you talking ab-"

"It's not pleasant, is it? Being interrupted. Are you passing up the chance to release me?" The officer slowly lessened his grip until the redhead could pull his arm back to himself, his plain brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. Gaara rubbed his somewhat sore wrist and stared at the confused man in front of him with dull green eyes. "The nerve of some people." The mustached lips of the officer split in surprise.

"Pardon," Gaara mumbled as he slipped past the man and around the familiar corner of the kitchenette. He cast a quick glance towards the small eating area buried into the nook near the window seat that was now reduced to a pile of black wood and ashes. Pity it hadn't been destroyed further really. He'd have to seriously consider smashing the window if he came back through here.

The house was clearly too big. Six bedrooms for a family of one made absolutely no sense, at least it didn't in Gaara's mind. What were the other rooms for? A dust collection? He was perfectly aware his father never cleaned. Never hired a maid that cleaned either. One reason in particular why he no longer lived there.

Another being that it was now burnt to a smoking, unstable crisp. A loud creak echoed from the floor above down into the grand stairway he'd finally located.

He took the steep steps two at a time, perfectly content in believing he'd been given long legs for purposes such as this. If only he could find the purpose in why he kept his hair so long, but there was always the chance it was just superficial.

"Hello? Gaara, is that you?" The blonde woman caught sight of the brilliant shock of red hair that was standing on the first landing of the once carpeted stairwell.

The redhead paused for a moment, thinking until he slowly greeted her, "Temari. How did you beat me here?" She visibly stiffened.

"Would you shut up! That's what you say at a time like this? Our father was just killed and you're concerned with how I got here first?" The grief-ridden voice of his sister echoed loudly in the crumbling room. Gaara peered around the room from the corner of his eye, secretly wondering if it was as safe to be in here as he'd originally presumed.

"I would have been concerned had you been killed too, being in such a rush as it would seem you were." He observed the tears that leaked out of the corner of her blue eyes, but had a hard time figuring out why his sister was crying. It was only their father after all.

"You haven't changed. Not one bit." Temari flew down the stairs as if carried by the wind and latched her arms tightly around him in a hug. He froze. Hugs were pointless. And again, Gaara didn't do things that were pointless.

"Sorry, sorry. How did you get in here anyway? The police officers out front wouldn't stop giving me hell about coming up here."

"I just walked in." Lying held purpose, he was okay with that.

She wiped her eyes with the long sleeves of her violet blouse, the stern look her features naturally adopted in times of stress plastering itself onto her face. "Assertive as always, baby brother." He just nodded; best to keep things simple after all.

Temari took his larger hand in her own and led him slowly up the stairs, turning right at the final landing of the third floor. The fire damage was far worse up here. It'd be a shame to have marched all through this house only to fall through the floor now.

"He's down this way." She sniffed quietly once, her fingers still tightly wrapped around his own. "Where's Kankuro? I'd have thought he'd come with you?"

Gaara shrugged and shoved the hand his sister hadn't stolen from him into his back pocket. "I came straight from Sarutobi's office after my appointment." His voice sounded flat even to his own ears. Temari suddenly stopped, wrenching painfully on his arm when he tried to keep walking. His eyes narrowed in frustration.

"He's in there."

"Fine. Let's go." She tugged on his arm again when he tried to leave. Gaara sighed, letting out an angry huff of air to calm himself down a bit.

"We can't go in there! Some of the men earlier told me earlier that he was," She paused to bit her lip, fully aware that her brother wanted to break in but wouldn't, "a little hard to recognize."

"I'm sure." He was fairly certain he'd gone through this just a few moments ago. "Don't act daft. Just come along or I'll go alone. I want to see."

A small, trembling smile graced his sister's stoic expression. She nodded.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I think, it would be best if we gave him a change of environment," Sarutobi said as he leaned back in his squeaky rolling desk chair. God, how he hated this thing.

Temari's eyebrows knitted together and her lips pursed in a thoughtful pout. "What do you mean? Why?" He let out a quiet breath.

"You see, I feel as though he can't grow any more here. He's already as," His tongue poked into his cheek and searched for the right word, "advanced as he's bound to get."

"I don't get it."

"Shut it Kankuro! No one asked you." Temari slapped the back of the middle sibling and turned back to the psychiatrist with an elegant smile. Sarutobi grimaced.

"There are too many negative reminders here, too many things that are just going to drag him down."

"Well, where do you suggest we send him?"

Sarutobi leaned back again- that damn pesky chair!- and ran a hand through the thinning gray hair atop his head. "He's technically an orphan now, isn't he. Are either of you of a consenting age?"

"Both, but Temari claims him. I just live with him, feed him, make sure he has an education... What _do _you do again Temari?" Another slap.

"I kept Father away from him, but," She trailed off, unable to finish.

"I'm sure it's been hard on you. You were living with the late Mr. Sabaku, were you not?" Temari nodded and fought the pain from her chest. "It's just a blessing you were uninjured."

"A blessing from which direction..." Sarutobi ignored the younger Sabaku in hopes that the elder would as well. Kankuro slumped in his seat.

"Ah yes, regarding Gaara though. I do have a friend I can send him to for a while, that is if you'd be willing."

Kankuro and Temari shared a look. "Where?"

. . . . .

End Chapter 1.

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1. Stay with me. Slow start, but it gets much better. These characters become so fun to write, I promise. So much more... quirky then what I've done before. If this is well liked, I may change the names, do some revising, and try to get it published. Who knows?

2. For future reference, the Sabaku's are English (Not saying what part of England because then I'd feel compelled to do research about accents and stuff.)

3. Shorts chapters, but hopefully quick updates.

4. I am still writing my other stuff! It just takes a while to write six 8,000+ word chapters before updating you know!

5. In-depth summary (Expect this next chapter if you don't read it here): "I'm different, or at least everybody says I am. Apparently I also killed my father, so I don't really find what others say important anymore. It's lost any credibility in my mind. Honestly, I didn't kill him, I just didn't want him living either. Is that such a crime?

"I suppose I over think a lot of things, but it's my nature. When I'm angry, I've thought about why I am, not only that, but what can I accomplish by being angry. It usually justifies itself.

"I'm just a boy, only 16, which makes me a man to some people depending on the standards set. I've never been one to set or meet standards.

"Some say I'm crazy, mainly people my father paid to talk to me. It could've been a bribe, but I'll never know.

"Friends? I'm unfamiliar. Does a person need someone aside from themselves if the only desirable company they've had up to the point was their own? It doesn't make sense, now does it? At least I don't think so. Didn't, now I suppose, because now I have friends that wouldn't leave me even if _I _bribed _them_. Nothing my father taught me turned out to be useful.

"My mind is made up though, and I'm never wrong about myself. Friends are pointless, and I don't follow through with pointless things.

"However, she made pointless things suddenly hold much more meaning.

"For the first time in 16 years, it wasn't about me anymore."

Hope you enjoy, Love AMB11. Review, review, review!


	2. Homesick

**Disclaimer:** Y'all know what goes here anyway. Onwards!

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Chapter 2: Homesick

The car jostled him about on the leather seat when it hit yet another bump on the ice-covered road. Just one more reason to hate winter, aside from just the simple fact that Gaara hated shivering. Such a distraction. Speaking of which, how could he get his brother to SHUT UP!

"Kankuro." The brunette carried on in his idle chatter with the driver, and Gaara gave up. Chatter. Teeth. Cold. He really hated winter.

Fog coated the back windows of the small, black vehicle, and Gaara blew out one more breath just so he couldn't see himself anymore. It faded away quickly, and his reflection was clear just a few seconds later; brilliantly green eyes lined in a dark charcoal grey- make up enhanced natural features, was it wrong for those features to belong to a young man?- and shaggy red bangs spiked all around his somewhat round face, the length of the fiery strands pulled into a short, tight ponytail at the base of his neck that was poking irritatingly at the collar of his jacket. He never would know the reason for keeping his hair so long.

"Gaara, I really think you'll like this place. Dr. Sarutobi recommended it for you," His sister said from the seat next to him, her hand resting idly on his forearm. He just nodded, annoyed with his hair once again when it pricked lightly at his neck.

The plane ride had taken hours, far more than he'd been willing to count. It'd touched down just over half an hour ago and there'd been a car waiting for them at the airport. The man had been holding the sign upside down, so it did take a while longer to find him then Gaara would've preferred.

"Where exactly are we going anyways? And why'd we have to come too? You know I don't like travel like this." And there went his brother's mouth again.

"Kankuro! Would you shut the hell up already? It's been non-stop since we left Suna." Temari ran a hand through her frizzy hair, frowning when her fingers got stuck in her bangs. "This is why I hate taking you places." She pulled her curly blonde tresses back into a tight ponytail. A few loose strands fell attractively across her forehead, but she just blinked them irritatingly out of her eyes.

They bickered, but the question remained unanswered, and for some reason, the young redhead was bothered by it. His cheek hit the window with a quiet thump, the coolness of the glass instantly pulling a sigh from his lips. Cold was one thing, the driver blasting too much heat because of the cold was entirely different.

How ironic would it be to die of heat stroke in December? Worse than drowning in a fire.

Gaara brushed his fingers absently across the tattoo that graced his forehead. Love. Thank goodness he'd gotten it at least partially sober or else, instead of the somewhat intimidating Japanese character that was permanently ingrained into his pale skin, it could've been a heart like his sister had wanted. Once again, it was something he would never understand exactly. When the _hell_ had he gotten the bloody thing?

He pulled the scarf from his neck and settled it in his lap, droning the sound of his upset siblings into the background. He couldn't understand them anyway. He pressed his forehead back against the cool glass of the window, eyes glued to the passing pavement below.

"I've never noticed before. The ground is moving so fast." He paused, inwardly berating himself. "But then again, the ground isn't moving at all, we are. But it looks so backwards from the truth. Fascinating." His voice was muffled against the window, and his eyes closed as he delved more fully into the thought.

"He's doing it again, Temari." Kankuro shielded his mouth with his hand, the tips of his fingers dyed the same bright purple that adorned his eyes and the warpaint-like designs decorating his cheeks, though it was slightly faded.

The blonde woman glanced over at her youngest brother, his lips moving too fast to read and his words too low to hear. "I've worried for so long, but nothing's come of it. Maybe this isn't worth it. Coming all this way, that is." Kankuro lips twitched in response.

"You never did answer my question!"

"Back to the shouting? I swear, you're such a child!"

The driver rolled his eyes, wishing he was off in Lala land like his youngest passenger.

. . . . . .

Two hours. Plus four, but he didn't really count those. Too much time spent in the confined company of his siblings, it couldn't be healthy to feel so agitated. He'd have to meditate later.

His suitcase was on the ground in seconds, and the slamming of a trunk door filled the air a moment later. Finally, sweet freedom. The sign that simply stated 'Welcome to KONOHA' was just a few feet to his right. "I wonder why it's in caps. Strange, that is." A blast of warm air rippled his plain white, long-sleeved t-shirt as the cab drove off from the curb in a hurry. "Lucky bastard." Gaara straightened out a crease on his now heat-wrinkled khaki pants.

"Gaara, get over here or we'll leave you behind when the bus arrives." The redhead pulled the handle of his baggage up and wheeled it behind him as he walked. At least the streets here were paved. Cobbles tended to irritate him. Too many bumps.

"It's just about ten minutes from here on the shuttle, so it shouldn't be long." He sat down between the two older adults and settled his bag between his knees, his jacket sitting in a folded pile on his lap. The orange and yellow colored leaves in the tree branches overhead rustled in the light breeze. It was warmer here, at least, just a cooling breeze every now and again to remind oneself of the time of year. It was almost peaceful, in all actuality.

"Do you think I can meet some new women here? Ladies have a thing for foreigners." Kankuro ran a hand through his hair and slung his arm around the back of the wooden bench.

"Only when they have something other than an accent going for them." Gaara closed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. His sister's laughter drowned out the constant sound of mountain wind, and he realized he didn't miss it. There was too much noise here, natural or not. A car horn blared in the distance. Ah, just like home.

"Got 'im there little brother!" Temari patted Gaara's knee and rustled around in her seat, attempting to pull down the back of her t-shirt without the use of her hands. "I hope this friend of Sarutobi's is a nice man. I couldn't stand living with another person like Kankuro."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?!" Kankuro reached his arm around his younger brother and managed to give his sister's head a light love pat. "I'm _not _that bad!" Gaara shoved the heavy brunette off of the bench, fighting back the uncharacteristic urge to smile that had overcome him. Kankuro spluttered, wiping dirt from his jeans. "What was that for?" His brother knew better than to yell at the redhead.

Gaara considered it for a second. "Does there have to be a reason?"

"With you, there's always a reason." The younger man reached out to his brother to help him stand.

"Not necessarily a reason, always a purpose." Kankuro accepted the redhead's offered hand and pulled himself up, automatically brushing the dirt caked to the seat of his jeans. He adjusted his windbreaker and plopped himself back onto the white-painted bench, this time, on the other side of Temari.

The blonde wrapped her arm around the young teen gingerly and leaned her head on his broad shoulder. Gaara stiffened and attempted to scoot away, but she held him tight. Her hair poked at the red stubble that was trying its hardest to grow on the underside of his chin, and his hands twitched with the need to scratch. "This is why we'll never understand you baby brother." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye in question.

"Great, there's the bus," Kankuro said, getting to his feet and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

The tires squealed, and with a slight hiss of a breaking seal, the door cranked open to one side. The steps shook under Gaara's feet, and the entire vehicle bounced when his siblings fought to board behind him. If he didn't need them for money, food, and shelter, he'd have gotten rid of them ages ago.

The entire bus was a beehive of activity, from the elderly men and women seated near the front to the rebellious-looking preteens that were smacking gum and playing on cell phones in the large back seat. Small children skittered from seat to seat, ignored by busily chatting parents. One woman was holding two crying babies that were oblivious to the fact that they probably weren't going to get what they wanted until 'Mommy had finished her discussion' with the surprisingly out of place Hispanic man that was smiling nervously and nodding every few seconds. As a fellow foreigner, Gaara sort of felt for the man. At least he spoke English.

The redhead turned to the driver, giving Kankuro the chance to elbow past Temari into the main bus aisle. The blonde wasn't far behind, her angry shouts only adding to the controlled chaos.

"Do you take foreign currency?" The woman seated behind the wheel glanced between Gaara, the money box, and then the rear view mirror. She bit her lip as if thinking it over, then a sly, devilish smirk quirked her pink lips upwards.

"Honey, if you'll just say a few choice things very, _very_ slowly for me, I'll let you and the two apes you brought with you ride wherever you want. No charge." The purple haired woman ran her dark eyes from the worn brown boots on his feet to the impassive look on his porcelain face. "I love me a sexy foreigner." She winked, the spiky ponytail perched on top of her head bouncing with a jerk.

Gaara pulled his hand from his pocket, dropped a few loose coins into the slot on the change box, and turned on his heel, mumbling, "You take foreign currency." The woman just shrugged and started the bus. He was a bit young for her standards, and Anko Mitarashi didn't settle for anyone that didn't meet her standards. After that last time, that is.

She puffed out some hot air and pulled out into the street to turn around, a smug grin glued to her face. "Jailbait."

. . . . . . .

"Get the hell offa my bus!" Her southern drawl was thickly pronounced.

Kankuro stumbled down the last step only to land on his face at the feet of his siblings, the green bag he'd been carrying landing soundly on his back a moment later. The door shut on his foot, dragging him with it a few feet until Anko finally opened it a crack to release the imprisoned young man. The brunette tumbled to a stop in an ungraceful heap in a driveway a few yards away from the bus stop.

"That's what you get for being an idiot." Temari crossed her arms over her chest and went to help her tactless brother up.

Gaara set his bag down on the sidewalk and scratched at the stubble on his cheek, raking his eyes over the quaint building he'd be calling home for the next few months. The porch was enormous, wrapping around the entirety of the front of the house and back around the side to a yard he couldn't quite see. White posts held up a navy blue awning. A porch swing hung from a wooden beam. There were two wide windows, with no curtains he could see, facing him on either side of the simple cream-colored door. The welcome mat was a neon orange that contrasted nicely with the serenity of the decor. It wasn't entirely atrocious.

Temari dragged Kankuro to his feet and back over to their younger sibling. "So, Gaara. What do you think?" The three started for the porch and climbed the five steep wooden steps to the front door. Kankuro buzzed the bell once.

A group of young-looking people flickered in the corner of his vision before quickly disappearing behind the pale yellow house on his right. Somewhere, not too far away, the sound of a basketball being thrown sounded loudly enough to echo throughout the otherwise quiet cul-de-sac. A young girl fell off her bike across the street and started crying, only to be comforted by an almost deceptively nice looking elderly woman.

Gaara's gaze locked back onto the yellow house, more specifically the garage where he just knew someone was watching him; multiple someones.

"I think I'm quite ready to go back to England now." And then the front door exploded.

. . . . . . .

End Chapter 2.

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It's so nice being able to write short chapters just for fun. My other stories take so much thought, but this one just comes and I don't feel the pressure of writing ten thousand words a post. Just write what I want to, it's a good feeling!

Thanks for reading! I want to see some reviews before next time. :) They make me happy. Love, AMB11!


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